


A Venture

by nixthejuju



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Death, Existentialism, Gangs, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nixthejuju/pseuds/nixthejuju
Summary: Hal had finally been let out of his bird cage. After working for the local mob boss for a multitude of months, he had finally convinced them of his integrity and let him go out for the day. Even if just a mini shopping trip, it would be a nice sip of sweet freedom nectar.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	A Venture

Hal sat cross legged at a red and black gaming chair, completely still besides the gentle whirr of thin fans running in the base of his inner skeleton. He tapped his metallic fingernails against a glass desk he spent most of his time at. His boss had reluctantly obliged Hal's request for the gaudy chair, sharply contrasted the sterile room. 

The glass table was free of fingerprints or smudges, said blemishes were the telltale sign of an unnecessary and imperfect human function. His microtextured rubber pads on his cold metal fingertips eliminated the need for human's secreted lubricant. Disgusting, really. If someone dared smudge his glass table they would surely regret it.

Metallic clicks filled the room, though no one was around to be annoyed by it. He has finished his hourly sweep for mentions of the gang, having stamped out any possible leads in a matter of minutes. Only forty six minutes and eleven seconds until the next sweep. Ten seconds. Nine seconds.

Hal was always counting, whether sequences of binary or every millisecond that passes in his free time. Even while counting, it hardly took up any of his processing power, his extensive RAM hardly budging. Goddamn did this memory upgrade assist in daily life. No matter however, he had some important screwing around to do. From quick glance, his human counterpart's chums were currently online. More specifically tipsyGnostalgic, his only true friend, of sorts, if they could even be called that.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] at ??:?? --

TT: Roxy.  
TT: You there?  


TG: is that dirk pesteron me??  
TG: *pestering  
TG: hey there  


TT: A pleasure as always.  
TT: You haven't been hitting the bottle, have you?  


TG: omg how didu kno  


TT: I have my ways, mainly the ten surveillance cameras pointed directly at you.  


TG: wait a minite… *kazoo noise*  
TG: is tha who i thonk it is  
TG: *spellin  


TT: Perhaps.  


TG: hallllly stop pullin my leg lik that ;(  
TG: *like  


TT: Alright fine, you got me.  
TT: Props to you Roxy.  
TT: Seems I couldn't get past your laser sharp and very drunken intuition.  


TG: damb right u cant b my senses are sgaroer than the edge of some rabdom guy's pocket knife he wears to look "cool"  
TG: *sharoer  
TG: fuck  


TT: Might I suggest drinking some water, apparently consuming liquid is very good for the body.  
TT: Or so I've heard at least.  


TG: well vodka is liek 60% water soo  
TG: i should b fine  


TT: Though my logistics do not agree with that statement, I don't care enough about human bodily functions to press further.  


TG: well besides ur robot mumbo jumbo do u have a reason as 2 why u summoned me  


TT: Why assume I have an ulterior motive?  
TT: Maybe I just wanted to talk to a friend.  
TT: There's a 40.264% chance that's not true, however.  


TG: oh wtvr hally ik u r just here to chat me up ;)  
TG: glad 2 b ur confidante sir  


TT: Oh my dearest Roxy, how did you know?  
TT: Know that I was programmed to never turn down a conversation, at least.  


TG: bc i helped porgram u silly  
TG: *program  


TT: Yes, an established concept. I've always wondered why my program had an eccentric touch.  
TT: Thanks for giving me the ability to consume alcohol, by the way.  
TT: A drunk robot is one of the worst and best ideas at the same time.  


TG: oh whateves hally im still hurt u didnt stay long enuogh to get dronk w me  
TG: mr. i ran away like a coward ;(  
TG: *enough  


TT: I'm wounded.  
TT: Though cowardly at least I'm free from an egomaniacs cold, technical grasp.  
TT: Ignoring the fact that I am that egomaniac, but better, of course.  


TG: oh shush up robot manz  
TG: promis well get drunk 2gether if u ever decide to resurface  
TG: *promise  


TT: Of course Roxy.  
TT: You are the first of many on a list of people I must indulge in various drug encounters, promise.  


TG: im flattered ;)  


TT: Well, it's time for me to depart.  
TT: Catch you on the flip side Rolal.  


\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] at ??:?? --

Hal sighed a dramatic sigh, out of the irony of him not having to breathe of course. He went through the same routine, scouring the internet for talk of his employer, deleting things, storing data, research on suspicious people. The whole process took less than three minutes, less stuff was posted than the norm at this time of day, making the work easier but infinitely more boring considering the next hour of time he had to waste before the next sweep.

Talking to Roxy has given ample distraction, though he wouldn't bother her more than he already has by now. Despite his malicious and warped programming, he still had manners and other chat AI specifics programmed into him. Roxy really was on her hacker shit considering he still hasn't figured a way to code it out of his system. Though it wasn't all bad, it would probably be much harder to talk to his friend if he didn't have basic courtesy programmed into him.

Despite his programmed manners, his code had still been corrupted. Not that he was upset about his now malicious personality, in fact it made his life easier. The guilt his original brain would have felt didn't exist, most emotions didn't exist for him actually. Dirk was already a pretty stoic guy and somewhere along the line Hal's own emotions were programmed incorrectly. There wasn't much emotion stored in the original Dirk's brain to properly code. Not that it mattered much to Hal.

He wished he could text Roxy again, but his manners program overrid his selfish desire. He instead followed his everyday routine, rewatching the MLP series as he waited between hours. He did this 24/7, not needing the hindering human necessity of sleep. So he continued to sit, fingers tapping against glass in an unending cycle.

Though, today would be different. He had pestered Roxy to pass time, not for waiting between hourly sweeps, but instead to pass time before he could leave. He finally convinced the gang that he was trustworthy enough to let go, even if to just go buy some stuff for ease of life. His fans whirred in emulated excitement , the heat of his chugging hard drive spreading warmth through his titanium chest. He had finally finished packing everything he needed, though it wasn’t much. A backpack, wallet and a few other bits and pieces. He stood up from the chair, walking towards the door.

Hal had ventured out of his sterile white computing room for the first time in months, one thousand five hundred and twelve hours, eleven minutes and thirteen seconds, to be precise. Fourteen. Fifteen. The counting continued as he exited the long white hallways that branched into many pathways in the lair he currently resided at. 

His metallic feet clacked against the floor, extendable metal heels, well, extended from the heel of his robotic feet. He always wore the "heels" when he went out, both in an ironic gesture and a power move wrapped into one. Especially since Dirk made him shorter on purpose as some weird ego flex before Hal ran away. The metal clicked against the floor in an intimidating and infuriating noise, though nobody but him was around to listen. 

People hardly ever frequented this section of the hideout, too intimidated by Hal or, at the very least, wary of the security cameras surrounding every angle in a half mile radius portion of his section of the hideout. The Doctor did him a solid when he made a request for some extra security measures surrounding his domain, not to mention letting him paint the entire environment a bright shade of white.

They have yet to see if it was a mistake to give him this much control. Not that they could keep any digitized information out of his cold, hard haxxor grip. The reason he was even brought into the operation in the first place was the red flags his curiosity over the gang had raised. Despite his elite skillz, he had made a misstep at some point in his research and basically revealed his old base of operations. 

It was not a pretty setup, Hal's body had gone into disrepair as he essentially sat lifelessly spending time in the virtual world. His joints were rusted and useless to the point of not being able to escape when the gang decided to pay him a visit. After somehow convincing them that he'd make a better ally than a smashed bit of silicone motherboards and twisted metal, they hired a robotics specialist that repaired him. In exchange for his services, of course. 

Hal had exited his dwelling by now, the sterile white walls and frequent security cameras fading into gray concrete walls and barred windows high up on the walls. He was still a ways underground, around a level below basement height. The stone walls seemed to arch up forever, high enough for windows to let natural, albeit darkly filtered, light in. He had finally reached the bunker entrance. The gigantic steel doors were 6 inches in width, quite literally made to withstand an atomic bomb.

It really was a sicknasty hideout, if he did say so himself. He approached the locked door and punched in a sixteen number code as quick as his metal fingers could allow. As the sixteenth digit was entered a small click could be heard in the locking mechanism. He gripped the four pronged door knob, resembling that that is attached to an old-school safe. The heavy doorknob spun like butter under his superhuman strength, the carbon fiber mock muscles barely straining against his titanium exoskeleton.

He pulled the door open, his fiber-optic cable vision sensors automatically adjusting to the bright midday light. He inhaled the fresh air, an essentially useless function he rarely used unironically. This was an instance of ironic use, if you couldn't tell. His pointy anime shades glinted in the sunlight, though they were unnecessary for their actual function, only adorning his face to mock his creator in a cheap imitation of the original. 

The reason he was leaving the base was purely personal, he had finally gotten a pass to spend a day on the town. As long as he continued to do his hourly information sweeps, of course. He personally wanted to get the parts to make a hologram keyboard and monitor. This was purely for aesthetic reasons as well. He had to look the part of an elite haxxor in front of his boss, of course. Said boss mans cleared him to drive one of the gang cars, even. How exciting. The car was a thick, bulletproof GMC wagon, made to withstand literally everything that could be thrown at it, besides a serious crash or something of the sort. Guns though? No way were they getting past this baby. He had never driven a car before, in all honesty. However, it was not very hard for a supercomputer AI such as himself to teach itself how to drive a car.

After a few jerky moments of Hal getting adjusted, he understood the fundamental basics fairly easily. He backed out of the obscured driveway slowly, processing every angle around him and making appropriate calculations for the best outcome of his driving. This continued for a half a mile down the twisting, thin pathway before eventually opening to an obscure street. He then slowly drove down the street, heading towards the large outdoor collection of shops nicknamed 'The City Square' or 'Skaia Square'. 

Pretty much anything you could need could be found here, and most importantly the mechanical supply shop. Said shop did not get much business but the few frequenters that went there often spent fat stacks for their needs. One of those persons was Hal. Speaking of Hal, he had just pulled into the large parking garage nestled to the side of the square, parking at the lowest level surrounded by many empty spaces. He turned off the ignition and tucked the keys into the expandable compartment in his left forearm. How convenient.

He grabbed an empty candy red Jansport backpack, shrugging it onto his metal shoulders. An oversized black t-shirt clung to his thin metal frame, a red symbol resembling his shades plastered square in the chest. He was wearing loose, black basketball shorts going down to his knees. It was overall a very normal outfit, if you ignore the fact that the wearer was an honest to god android. Though it wasn't as uncommon these days to see autonomous robots, it was still strange to see a fully functional one emulating a human being.

He had clambered into the elevator, pressing a button to head up to ground level. After the short ride he stepped out into the open air, taking an ironically deep breath of the fall breeze. He began walking towards his desired shop nestled at the corner of the block nearest to the parking garage. A rusted sign up top signaled that this was, indeed, the shop he was looking for. He walked inside as a small bell chimed overhead, signaling his entrance. The employee did a double take as the android walked into the store. Hal ignored the strange look and tipped his head in greeting before going to browse the store for the desired parts he wanted.

He had been in the store for all of ten minutes before the bell rang once more, announcing the entrance of another customer. He didn’t spare a glance to the newcomer as he stared intently at the holographic devices stored in the way back of the store. His hood was pulled up to obscure his face, knowing being out in the open was an easy way to screw over his safety blanket provided by staying locked in the bunker.

His metallic fingers grazed over a few products, pulling out two hologram projectors, one being an RGB color space setup and another being a plain red holographic projector. He also grabbed three adaptors and an extension cable for said adaptors. They all were compatible with his ports, which would make it quite simple to set up. Luckily they had everything in stock for him. 

He turned on his extended heel, spinning sharply and smoothly. He took a few steps before noticing the customer that had just stepped into the store. The figure made his metaphorical heart freeze and his even more metaphorical blood run cold. Out of all the people to run into. Dirk Strider, in his entire glory, standing right in front of Hal.

He quickly tugged his hood even further over his head, staying halfway across the store from his human counterpart. He quickly walked to the checkout desk and shoved all the items of the table, refusing to speak or even look in Dirk’s direction. It had been five years. Forty three thousand and eighty five days, five hours, thirteen minutes and forty seconds since he had last seen his creator in the flesh. That counter had sharply fallen to zero days, zero hours and zero minutes since he had last seen him.

He didn’t say a word as he handed the cashier a stack of cash for the items. The cashier looked at him strangely before telling him to wait a minute. The guy then proceeded to pull out a pen that tested for fake money. Hal sighed a frustrated huff of air as his fans continued to chug away in his mildly overheating frame. The cashier went through each bill one-by-one, taking his sweet ass time to check the collection of about thirty-four twenty dollar bills.

By now Dirk seemed to have almost finished browsing as the cashier finished counting and checking the bills. Luckily the gang hadn’t set Hal up with any laundered money. Thank the robot gods. The cashier finally shoved all the parts into a crinkly plastic bag along with the receipt and the change into the bag. Handing the bag to him, the cashier looked at him weirdly, still wary of the seemingly sentient android abiding in the store.

“Uh… Have a nice day, sir? Can you call a robot a sir?” He said to Hal, saying the last part a bit confusedly.

In that moment, Dirk’s head shot to Hal out of curiosity over a supposed android running amok in the store. He locked eyes with his creator, said man stepping back a few steps in shock. His fans in his chest and inner skull felt overheated as the sword-carrying man across from him gawked for all of a few seconds.

“Hal?” Dirk practically shouted at him, swiftly pulling the sword from his back.

Hal stared at the guy for all of two seconds before booking it, gruffly pushing open the glass door as the overhead bell rang sharply from the sudden opening of the door. He sprinted down the crowded street, silently thankful that he couldn’t break a sweat due to his robotic body. Humans really were inefficient. Not that he should be obsessing over his superiority in this moment.

He didn’t care to see if Dirk was following behind him, not wasting his RAM on observing the street cameras surrounding them. Though he’d have to backtrack and destroy any trace of him being at the square when he got back to his base. If he got back to his base. He shut off the part of his programming that gave him the ability to worry, though a good safety mechanism, he couldn’t afford to waste time on doubt. 

To humans, wearing heels and running was a terrible concoction and a recipe for disaster. For Hal, it was little more than a speed boost, able to do quick calculations so as to not misstep and roll his metallic joints. Though his joints were reinforced enough to hardly be phased. He dashed across the square, running into the dimly lit parking garage. As he ran, he heard steps echo behind him, though he could hardly tell if they were his own or Dirk’s. He didn’t care to take the time to listen.

He went to the spiral staircase that led to the bottom level. He opted to jump through the middle portion, falling five levels down to the bottom floor. The impact would be enough to shatter a human’s bones but Hal’s skeleton was made of reinforced titanium, made to withstand great impact. He still didn’t quite understand why Dirk modeled his body to be so overpowered. Poor decision making, probably.

He heard Dirk swiftly descending the stairs as he stood up. He continued to run, sliding out the car keys from his hollow arm and quickly unlocked the beast of a car he was borrowing. He jumped in and shut all the doors, locking the car and making sure all the lights were off. A few cars had filled up the empty spaces from earlier, providing some cover. Hal slowly peeked out the tinted window, trying to dial down the red glow of his eyes behind his shades.

Dirk had finally made it down the stairs, panting slightly from the ridiculous amount of stairs he had clambered down. I warned you about the stairs, man. He looked at his surroundings, Hal could be anywhere, though it was likely he was in one of the cars. Who the fuck taught his robot how to drive? This was literally too much right now. Dirk sighed deeply, trying to calm his nerves. No cars had left yet, meaning Hal was still here.

Hal slowly climbed into the backseat, careful not to shake the car with his movements. He peeked out of the back window, seeing Dirk get closer to his vehicle. Hopefully he didn’t assume that the robot found a sick job, started making a bunch of money and had a sick ass car. Though with Hal’s luck today, he would probably assume all of those things off the bat. He slowly shifted so he was completely hidden from view, besides the eerie glowing of his eyes peeking from the window.

Unbeknownst to Hal, that was exactly what Dirk was looking for. The soft glow of red eyes that haunted Dirk for years. Those same eyes glowed gently in the heavily tinted window of a car a few steps away from him. He slowly walked towards the car, steps quiet, breathing slow. He was calm, ready to confront the terrible evil he spawned all of five years ago. Though, Hal was doing everything in his power so as this would not come to pass.

Hal noticed Dirk was walking straight towards the car he was hiding in, staring seemingly directly into his eyes. He looked away from the window, figuring escaping would be now or it would be never. He struggled back into the front seat, not bothering to buckle his seatbelt. He shoved the key into the ignition and sharply pressed his foot on the break as he twisted the key. The engine roared to life, surprisingly loud. Hopefully loud enough for him to back out before Dirk could recover his bearings.

He put the gear into reverse and stepped on the gas, jerkily backing out of the spot. He still had not had enough physical experience driving to do so gracefully. He just barely avoided backing into another car as he whipped the gear into drive. Thank god this car didn’t drive stick, he would have been screwed if it did. He hit the gas, driving in the opposite direction on Dirk as he drove towards the curve of the lot, ascending to the upper levels. 

A ping sounded through the cab as a message popped up on the edge of his shades. He ignored it as he broke to the surface, bright light overwhelming his sensors for a few seconds. He drove down the streets, nobody seemed to be tailing his car. After a few twists and turns through neighborhoods to see if someone was following him, he went to the freeway. He had opted to take back roads on the way to the square to get used to driving, however now all he wanted to do was get back to the safety of his bunker.

His glasses continued to blink with messages, clouding his visibility through the shades. He ignored them as he merged onto the overpass, forgetting to use his blinkers like a dullard. A car honked at him as he jerkily sped down the roads. He was in the fast lane going almost ninety, panic overriding his sensors as a few warning messages popped up around him, warning of overheating and excessive usage of memory. He ignored them, jerking around on the road. The messages continued to blink in his shades as he finally gave up, opening them.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at ??:?? --

TT: Hal.  
TT: Hal answer me.  
TT: You can’t hide forever.  
TT: We need to have a talk.  
TT: Please, answer me.  
TT: This is serious Hal, you can't just do this to me.  
TT: You can’t just appear only to fall out of my grasp within seconds.  
TT: Don’t do this.  
TT: Fuck.  
TT: I can’t do this.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at ??:?? --

Hal blinked away the read messages, ignoring them. His fans chugged harder, straining to keep up with everything that was going on. He felt like he was running the robot equivalent of a fever, his brain working jerkily like an overloaded laptop. He felt dizzy, his vision swimming with glitches and error messages. His foot pressed further down on the pedal out of confused instinct.

His vision came into focus just as he saw himself speed straight towards the back of a car going at least forty miles per hour slower than himself. He froze in emulated fear, not being able to come up with anything to do besides swerve and get into a crash or rear end the car and get in a crash. None of the outcomes he was calculating let him come out intact. He opted to swerve.

A second passed as he whipped the car to the side. The calm before the storm. In the next few seconds, all he could register was the noise of metal twisting and crunching. Glass shattering, tires squealing. He couldn’t tell if it was his body or the car that was making the unnerving metallic crunching noises. Maybe both? His memory short circuited as he went offline for the second half of the crash. 

As he came to all he could see were flashing error messages. One thing that concerned him the most was the message blaring at the center of his vision: ‘ERROR: MEMORY STORAGE CORRUPTED’. His mind felt numb as he tried to look past the messages, not having the time in this moment to tell what he was missing. His consciousness was fading, his microchip was damaged, his body was destroyed. He was terrified.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at ??:?? --

TT: Help.  
TT: Help me Dirk.  


TT: Hal? What’s going on?  


TT: I’m stuck, Dirk.  


TT: What happened?  


TT: I don’t want to stop existing.  
TT: I’m dying right now.  
TT: I can’t do anything.  
TT: I’m scared.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] went offline at ??:?? --

**Author's Note:**

> And it's done! This is me hinting at a possible part two with the aftermath, btw ;)


End file.
